"Remember Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things. And no good thing ever dies" Andy
"I have no idea to this day what those two Italian ladies were singing about. Truth is, I don't want to know. Some things are best left unsaid. I'd like to think they were singing about something so beautiful, it can't be expressed in words, and makes your heart ache because of it. I tell you, those voices soared higher and farther than anybody in a gray place dares to dream. It was like some beautiful bird flapped into our drab little cage and made those walls dissolve away, and for the briefest of moments, every last man in Shawshank felt free." Red
Shawshank Redemption is amazing; if you haven't seen it yet, go yee into the video store and rent.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
Be Mine?
Today in my 8:00 class, three guys randomly showed up with a guitar and sang “you are my sunshine” to my professor, as well as presented him with a white rose. This is the gift of Valentine’s Day.
Growing up, we had pink cupcakes, and cartoon cards, and homemade valentines. In the second grade, my class had an anonymous love letter mailbox, and though I didn’t receive a valentine, my best friend chanley did. I remember leaning over it with her, giggling. In the third grade, the boy I had a crush on gave me a valentine that said, “will you bee mine?” In middle school, I got a letter from a secret admirer in my locker. And in the seventh grade, I got a red rose.
Some people hate Valentines. I get that; everything is heart shaped and pink and you’re reminded of how completely and utterly single you are. But due to circumstances, I’m kind of obligated to love Valentine’s Day, seeing as how it’s the day I was born.
I’m a Valentine baby. A chocolate and flower lover. A romantic by birth.
I’m the person who is frolicking on campus like a moron, admiring the hugs, and red sweaters, and sweet kisses. I’ll smile like an idiot all day and bask in the glorious amount of lovey doviness I’m feeling.
I know this sickens many, but once a year I turn into this love hopeful and smiley pile of mush. Every year it happen and there is nothing I can do to prevent it. I even wrote a valentine’s ditty the other day…
Imagine, years and years ago Emperor Claudius II of Rome decided to cancel all marriages and engagements in hopes that men would join the army and would leave their families to fight for him. And there was Priest Valentine, who thought love too sacred- who was a frolicking idiot too I suppose- so he wedded couples in secret. Unfortunately, he was put in prison and eventually put to death on February 14th, but before his death, he sent the woman he loved a letter and signed it, “from your Valentine”.
Weird thought: we kind of celebrate a priest’s death every year…
I think one reason I adore valentine’s so much is because it seems to be the one day of the year when anything could happen. Someone could randomly walk into my class, playing the guitar, and sing to me. A letter could be left at my doorstep, a flower on my car…hearts could be drawn in pink on the concourse, and love poems could be taped to the walls. At any second, someone could be telling someone else that they love them, the notebook could come on TV, heart shaped cookies could be baked, a couple could be kissing, someone could say they’re sorry, even the most hard-hearted person could smile. Someone just might throw rocks at my window…
Valentine’s Day, at least to me, is about the possibility that something out of the ordinary could happen, and the gigantic weight of that possibility makes it all bearable (singleness, pink, glittery things). And though the three most magical words are said to be,”I love you,” I argue that they are in fact, “I love you too.” And Valentine’s Day is about, “I love you too.” You don’t have to be loved, to love.
So dear one, today,will you be my Valentine?
Growing up, we had pink cupcakes, and cartoon cards, and homemade valentines. In the second grade, my class had an anonymous love letter mailbox, and though I didn’t receive a valentine, my best friend chanley did. I remember leaning over it with her, giggling. In the third grade, the boy I had a crush on gave me a valentine that said, “will you bee mine?” In middle school, I got a letter from a secret admirer in my locker. And in the seventh grade, I got a red rose.
Some people hate Valentines. I get that; everything is heart shaped and pink and you’re reminded of how completely and utterly single you are. But due to circumstances, I’m kind of obligated to love Valentine’s Day, seeing as how it’s the day I was born.
I’m a Valentine baby. A chocolate and flower lover. A romantic by birth.
I’m the person who is frolicking on campus like a moron, admiring the hugs, and red sweaters, and sweet kisses. I’ll smile like an idiot all day and bask in the glorious amount of lovey doviness I’m feeling.
I know this sickens many, but once a year I turn into this love hopeful and smiley pile of mush. Every year it happen and there is nothing I can do to prevent it. I even wrote a valentine’s ditty the other day…
Imagine, years and years ago Emperor Claudius II of Rome decided to cancel all marriages and engagements in hopes that men would join the army and would leave their families to fight for him. And there was Priest Valentine, who thought love too sacred- who was a frolicking idiot too I suppose- so he wedded couples in secret. Unfortunately, he was put in prison and eventually put to death on February 14th, but before his death, he sent the woman he loved a letter and signed it, “from your Valentine”.
Weird thought: we kind of celebrate a priest’s death every year…
I think one reason I adore valentine’s so much is because it seems to be the one day of the year when anything could happen. Someone could randomly walk into my class, playing the guitar, and sing to me. A letter could be left at my doorstep, a flower on my car…hearts could be drawn in pink on the concourse, and love poems could be taped to the walls. At any second, someone could be telling someone else that they love them, the notebook could come on TV, heart shaped cookies could be baked, a couple could be kissing, someone could say they’re sorry, even the most hard-hearted person could smile. Someone just might throw rocks at my window…
Valentine’s Day, at least to me, is about the possibility that something out of the ordinary could happen, and the gigantic weight of that possibility makes it all bearable (singleness, pink, glittery things). And though the three most magical words are said to be,”I love you,” I argue that they are in fact, “I love you too.” And Valentine’s Day is about, “I love you too.” You don’t have to be loved, to love.
So dear one, today,will you be my Valentine?
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
See, I'm Alive
There are two types of people: those who need human contact, and those who can go without. I am of the second type. I am perfectly content to see my friends in class, have lunch with them, text someone here or there, go home and have a deep conversation with my roommate, and then close my door to my guitar, books, piano, or journals.
I suppose this is a flaw of mine, except I never really noticed it as a flaw…that is until people who know me wondered if I was dead. This was concerning to me. So, just for the record, I’m not dead…I’m just preoccupied with books, and blogs, and running, and macronutrients, and you know, this little thing called self discovery.
Which get’s to a second flaw of mine: I tend to disappear when I’m thinking things through. You may run to your bff or mom, or maybe you go hang out with a whole group and discuss what it is your thinking, not me. I like to take long, quiet walks; I like to hold the world at arm’s length until I get it all figured out. And when I do, poof, I’m back…and though I won’t seem different to most, I feel different: I feel new, I feel light, I feel, well, I feel I’ve gotten things figured out.
I get this from my dad. My mom is a “people” person, and though I adore my friends and I enjoy conversations and I enjoy being with my friends, I don’t rely on them. I don’t feel I need them. I guess, if I were on a deserted island, I’d sit back, relax, and entertain myself until someone arrived, I wouldn’t go mad from the lack of social activity.
I’ve realized these are flaws because not everyone is a “close the door in contentment” sort of person, so when I disappear, I neglect my friendships, and it is something I’ve recently become aware of that I need to work on. I need to be a better friend, more present, and more reliable. So, to all of those friends who thought I died, I didn’t die, I’m here, and I want to be more here in the future. And if you want to take a long, quiet walk with me, I’ll let you come along. Please, just remind me, and I’ll spend time with you.
For the past three months or so, I’ve held everything at a distance; I’ve just really been thinking about the Lord: who he is to me, what he is to me, and where I fit in. And somewhere along the way of figuring Him out, I figured me out. I mean really, for the first time, I know who Martha Lee Anne is. And I can’t even put into words what it feels like to be sitting in my own skin, to really know who I am: at this moment, even my flaws are looking beautiful.
I just keep thinking, “the Lord is so good to me.” I needed space, I needed time to think, and He never walked away from me. I walked into the dark on purpose, and He still held my hand. I know I don’t know enough scripture by heart, I know I don’t pray enough, I know I am a terrible example of what it means to be faithful, I know I am so lacking in faith, and I know I am so lacking in so, so much more, and I wonder all of the time why He’s still holding my hand. But even so, I really, really love the Lord, and it isn’t for these blessings I’ve received, and it isn’t for His pretty words, it’s for this unconditional love he is so willing to bestow on me every day.
The most I can hope for is that His love changes, I know this. I’m a very different person today then I was three months ago, and a much different person than I was 6 or 7 years ago, and I pray, a different person 3 years from now. I want to know Him more, I want to visit with Him more, and I want to give Him more.
I’ve just come to the realization that I couldn’t tear the Lord away from me if I tried, because He is so much of who I am. If I lose him, well, I lose myself. If I find Him, I find myself.
I suppose this is a flaw of mine, except I never really noticed it as a flaw…that is until people who know me wondered if I was dead. This was concerning to me. So, just for the record, I’m not dead…I’m just preoccupied with books, and blogs, and running, and macronutrients, and you know, this little thing called self discovery.
Which get’s to a second flaw of mine: I tend to disappear when I’m thinking things through. You may run to your bff or mom, or maybe you go hang out with a whole group and discuss what it is your thinking, not me. I like to take long, quiet walks; I like to hold the world at arm’s length until I get it all figured out. And when I do, poof, I’m back…and though I won’t seem different to most, I feel different: I feel new, I feel light, I feel, well, I feel I’ve gotten things figured out.
I get this from my dad. My mom is a “people” person, and though I adore my friends and I enjoy conversations and I enjoy being with my friends, I don’t rely on them. I don’t feel I need them. I guess, if I were on a deserted island, I’d sit back, relax, and entertain myself until someone arrived, I wouldn’t go mad from the lack of social activity.
I’ve realized these are flaws because not everyone is a “close the door in contentment” sort of person, so when I disappear, I neglect my friendships, and it is something I’ve recently become aware of that I need to work on. I need to be a better friend, more present, and more reliable. So, to all of those friends who thought I died, I didn’t die, I’m here, and I want to be more here in the future. And if you want to take a long, quiet walk with me, I’ll let you come along. Please, just remind me, and I’ll spend time with you.
For the past three months or so, I’ve held everything at a distance; I’ve just really been thinking about the Lord: who he is to me, what he is to me, and where I fit in. And somewhere along the way of figuring Him out, I figured me out. I mean really, for the first time, I know who Martha Lee Anne is. And I can’t even put into words what it feels like to be sitting in my own skin, to really know who I am: at this moment, even my flaws are looking beautiful.
I just keep thinking, “the Lord is so good to me.” I needed space, I needed time to think, and He never walked away from me. I walked into the dark on purpose, and He still held my hand. I know I don’t know enough scripture by heart, I know I don’t pray enough, I know I am a terrible example of what it means to be faithful, I know I am so lacking in faith, and I know I am so lacking in so, so much more, and I wonder all of the time why He’s still holding my hand. But even so, I really, really love the Lord, and it isn’t for these blessings I’ve received, and it isn’t for His pretty words, it’s for this unconditional love he is so willing to bestow on me every day.
The most I can hope for is that His love changes, I know this. I’m a very different person today then I was three months ago, and a much different person than I was 6 or 7 years ago, and I pray, a different person 3 years from now. I want to know Him more, I want to visit with Him more, and I want to give Him more.
I’ve just come to the realization that I couldn’t tear the Lord away from me if I tried, because He is so much of who I am. If I lose him, well, I lose myself. If I find Him, I find myself.
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